I just received an email
Address from Wanker Press,
They said they read my manuscript
And it was too shithouse to access.

They won’t publish a Poet of the People
‘Forget the fucking Prols!’
At Wanker Press they told me
‘We have much loftier of goals.’

‘We aim to please the critics
Newspapers, and other cretins,
As for rhyming poets, well….
We just won’t let them in.

‘We have standards to keep down
We must not let them rise,
We’re aiming low to please the critics
We’re not aiming for the skies.

‘Imagine Pablo Picasso as a bloody awful poet
Instead of a bloody awful painter,
That’s the shit that the critics like
The crowd for whom we cater.

‘Don’t send us your rhyming muck
Which has a clear, precise message,
We like obscurist, verbose crap
That keeps the punters guessing.

‘Don’t try to improve the world through rhyme
We like it lousy, as it is,
Don’t fill our emails with your sweet wine
We’re used to drinking donkey piss.

‘It’s not for nought they call us
“That bloody Wanker Press!”
We won’t publish any cream
We want fifth … not second best!’